


any semblance of touch

by skatingsplits



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, fuck you jed, gratuitous fluff, nobody's dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatingsplits/pseuds/skatingsplits
Summary: The tenderness with which he met the caustic edges she brought home at the end of the day never failed to surprise and delight her, a far cry from any relationship she'd ever had before. The scarcity of these relaxed evenings at home, however, meant that sometimes she was forced to multitask. There was always so much to do.





	any semblance of touch

**Author's Note:**

> nobody is dead and nothing traumatic happens which I think is all we need right now. I've barely checked this so apologies for typos etc. but I hope it helps with the post-finale pain a little!

  
Julia Montague loved her job, she really did. It sounded trite but it was exactly what she'd dreamt of since she was a little girl. She relished the power it gave her, true, but it was more than that; having an impact, actually being able to make changes that (she hoped) improved the lives of ordinary people, to do something. The only problem was, in Julia's case, this power mainly came in the form of a lot of late nights at the office in the company of office drones and dreary bureaucrats and comparatively few late nights in the rather more palatable company of her ex-bodyguard. It could have been worse; the closest David got to berating her for her working hours was his gentle chiding when she got home at 11pm having not eaten since breakfast, and she much appreciated his habit of silently rubbing the knots out of her ever-tense neck while she tried to fend off sleep and answer emails. The tenderness with which he met the caustic edges she brought home at the end of the day never failed to surprise and delight her, a far cry from any relationship she'd ever had before. The scarcity of these relaxed evenings at home, however, meant that sometimes she was forced to multitask. There was always so much to do.

  
If she'd had to choose a word to describe her evening, Julia would have probably plumped for “perfect". She wasn't prone to the over-use of superlatives, outside of parliamentary rhetoric, but she thought that if perfect were achievable, this must at least have been somewhere close. In an almost unprecedented move, she'd left her office at five, carelessly flinging her work laptop into a desk drawer before practically sprinting to her waiting car and curtly suggesting to her driver that if he knew what was good for him, he would get her home as fast as legally possible. Walking up the path to her flat while it was still light outside was a novelty she revelled in but any pleasure she'd found in the sunshine was completely overshadowed by the joy that had washed over her when she'd come through her front door to the sound of the radio and the smell of something delicious emanating from the kitchen.

She'd expected to, for once, beat David home, perhaps take a bath and maybe even attempt to cook something herself before he came over, but she was unspeakably glad to be able to instantly melt into his arms, not even stopping to hang her coat up. What had followed had been bliss; frenzied kisses against the kitchen counter, a meal far better than anything she'd ever even attempted, and now she was nestled, warm and drowsy, in David's arms on her sofa while he drew slow, leisurely circles on her thigh. She'd just closed her eyes in sleepy rapture as he pressed his lips to her neck when something quite different caught her attention.

  
‘Handel, it's absolutely Handel' she murmured, her eyes blinking open to peer at the glare of the television screen where Jeremy Paxman was loftily surveying a bevy of terrified undergraduates. David shifted so he could look her in the eye, perplexed.

  
‘What are you handling?’ He was looking at her like she was touched in the head and her lips twitched as she patted his arm in amused sympathy.

  
‘No, Handel, as in George Frideric Handel, he wrote George II’s coronation anthem' David's expression moved from slight confusion to complete consternation and Julia couldn't help giggling as she nodded towards the television. ‘University Challenge, darling' David's face cleared.

  
‘Ah, forgive me for thinking I had your full attention, Home Secretary’ she could hear the smile in his voice even as he swept his hand higher up the inside of her thigh and she pressed her face into his shoulder in delicious anticipation.

  
‘Well, David, normally you would' she said, her intoxication at his touch more evident in her voice than she'd expected ‘But unfortunately you've caught me at my most distracted; if I don't beat at least one of the teams of socially awkward bores they have on here, I can be in a huff for days. I don't think anything could possibly divert my attention now' her voice was teasing and she arched against the light touch of David's hand against her skin as if it wasn't already obvious that she was very open to diversion.

  
‘That sounds as though it might be a challenge’ David's voice was practically disinterested but when she turned to meet his gaze, his eyes were alight with mischief.

  
‘However you want to take it, darling' she said, face awash with faux-innocence ‘Now, be quiet while I listen to the questions, there's a good boy.’ He playfully scowled and made a show of removing his hand from her thigh and resting it on her shoulder, and Julia was unable to stop a smaller but much more real scowl from briefly crossing her own features. However, after a correct “Mussolini" and “karyotype", and an incorrect “four hundred and twenty", his hand slowly crept back to its former resting place, dipping under the ridden-up hem of her skirt.

  
‘The Leaning Tower of Pisa' was Julia's answer to a question about forced perspective and although it was echoed by a bespectacled history student moments later, the sound was almost drowned out by a loud gasp when two long fingers slid against the silky fabric of Julia's underwear and made it very obvious that she'd been absolutely burning for him since before she'd walked through the door. Resisting the temptation to close her eyes, spread her legs and melt back against his body, Julia clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip to discourage any more involuntary sounds from giving away what was surely very clear to him.

  
‘Reaching the Atlantic Ocean near the city of Serbia, the Sado is a river in which country?’ rang out from the television and it took Julia a moment before she was able to concentrate on anything other than the blissful feeling between her thighs.

  
‘Portugal' she rasped, unable to stop herself wriggling her hips back towards David in a move that was almost desperation. If the too-slow sensations of his hand between her legs wasn't torture enough, the low buzz of his chuckle against her head as she pushed back against him made her stomach tense in a way she'd have been embarrassed about if she'd been anywhere close to thinking clearly.

  
‘Teacher's pet' he murmured in her ear when her answer was proved correct yet again ‘Can't imagine what you were like at school.’ Julia let out a breathless laugh, inclining her head slightly to meet his eyes and feeling more like a schoolgirl than she had in years.

  
‘Complete and utter insufferable swot, I'm afraid, darling. I don't think the bad boy that I'm sure you were would have been very fond of me at all’

  
‘Who says I'm fond of you now?’ His voice was practically a growl, a sound that would have been enough to make her into a quivering mess even if his hand hadn't been firmly rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

  
‘The current location of your hand is a fairly big clue, I would say’ she managed to quip, fingers digging into the palm of her own hands.

  
‘Ah, you really are clever; wasted as a politician' she huffed at that but it quickly turned into a strangled sort of moan as his thumb pressed down on her clit. Her eyes fluttered closed and she had to actively force herself to concentrate on the drone of Jeremy Paxman's voice instead of the heat of David's body and the frissons of pleasure spiking between her thighs.

  
‘Edith Wharton' she said, surprising herself with her own breathlessness. She was ridiculously close to the edge; she'd needed this, badly, needed to be closed off from the outside world and the extreme stresses that consumed her days, from anything other than the comfort that came from being enveloped in his arms and the bliss that came from being subject to the glorious movement of his fingers. She sounded utterly wrecked, she knew she did, but she couldn't have cared less. Her ability to focus on anything other than him was fading and her attempts to answer the questions melted into a repeated incantation of his name. He left her clutching at her as she fell apart, nails digging crescent-shaped grooves into the flesh of his free arm in a desperate attempt to hang on to even the vaguest sense of reality and his name on her lips. He was silent when she flopped back towards him, his mouth briefly making contact with her cheek as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

  
‘You know' she said, wriggling around so she was facing him while she got her breath back ‘You're actually far better company than Jeremy Paxman.’ The corners of David's mouth twitched and he nodded his head in mock gratitude.

  
‘A far better lover too' this time, his mouth dropped open and she stared back at him poker-faced before dissolving into laughter.  
‘Got you' she managed to burst out between giggles. Appalled, he ineffectually swung one of the many cushions surrounding them at her, his lower, gruffer laugh harmonising with her lighter one as he turned off the television and very soon put all thoughts of quiz shows completely out of her mind.

 


End file.
